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THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 10 of 30

“I’d love to, if you’re free,” he said.  I was surprised at how eager and excited he was.

“I am free,” I said.  “Will you come to my place tomorrow?”

“What time will suit you?” he said.

“Depends upon how late you will be up with your celebration tonight,” I said.

“What celebration?” he said.

“You said you were dressed because you had something special to do this evening,” I reminded him.

“Oh, yes,” he laughed.  “I’ve done it.”

“You’ve… you mean I’m the something special,” I said, blushing.

“Yes, you are something very special,” he said.  I again relinquished my sense of responsibility and blurted out what I really wanted to say.

“Well then, we should not interrupt our special evening too early,” I said.  “If you’re free, you can come home with me now, and we can discuss our artistic endeavours over bowls of goulash and bread.”

“Nothing would please me more,” he said.  “And you must promise to come to my studio on Sunday morning.”  We sat silently, looking out the windows at the darkness for the remaining minutes before the train stopped at the Szentendre platform.

I preceded him off the train and waited a moment on the platform for him before we walked off together.  Boldly, I put my arm in his and guided him toward my house.  We walked along the sandy street past the small, stucco houses in their large, fenced lots.  Bushes heavy with red roses clung to the high fences.  Some fences were so thick with ivy that they formed solid walls of green that hid from our sight the serene beauty of the orchards and gardens within.  We walked together, and the warm evening air was fragrant with the scent of roses.  There were no streetlights, so we could see the road only because it was light coloured sand and lit by the glow of garden lamps in yards along the way.


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